


Running Backward

by SurprisinglySane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is Bad at Feelings, Deans a bit of a poop, M/M, Ramblings, Realistic, Sam is busy, future cas is sad, i wrote it this way on purpose, many ramblings, present cas is adorable, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurprisinglySane/pseuds/SurprisinglySane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean's little trip in future land, he learns a little something that just might make his life or ruin it. So of course, it follows him and drives him crazy all throughout their current case. "Luckily," Castiel comes along to help! Just so happens the little something is about our resident angel. Damn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You might have gather from the tags, but this fic will really show what I think would happen if Dean had feelings for Cas. I may or may not be using my own experiences to help with this. Try to be patient, it'll only get worse. :)

Dean sat on another rumpled mess of a motel bed as he waited for Sam to return from the local college with news about what new evil they were to face that week, with his mind drifting off to dangerous heights. He thought of the future he visited so long ago that loomed in front of them, teasing him, taunting from an unreachable distance, daring him to do better. Through the entire journey Zachariah forced upon him, from his future dickhead-self to Lucifer wearing Sammy like some rent-a-tux, there was only one thing that stuck with him the most. One person that flitted in the back of his mind with the promise of a fate far worse than becoming a dress for the devil or a self-righteous bastard that sacrificed his friends. Someone who was lost and floundering in a cacophony of hopelessness and grasping at any feeling that was opposite from the pain that shrouded everything in the future.

Cas…

Seeing him like that, an intense version of Dean mixed with a yoga instructor and a hippie, shook Dean in ways even Sam’s betrayal couldn’t. Dean felt responsible, hell, he was responsible. For everything that happened to Cas could directly be tied to what Dean had convinced him to do in the name of “good.” Dean didn’t know how that could have happened to his angel friend, the single piece of purity left in the bloodstained and twisted life he was living, suffering. All he knew was who was really at fault.

It was fresh in his mind, the memory of a moment when he and Future Cas were alone in the car on the way to what he would learn was a suicide mission. Rumbling along in the rickety old bucket of bolts allowed Dean a moment to collect himself and really absorb what was going on.

_“Dean?” Cas rumbled beside him, a concerned little smile snug on his dazed face. Dean jolted a little at his name and turned stiffly to the former angel. The smarmy version of a great man he knew stared at him from glazed over eyes and a more than slightly vacant expression._

_“Hmm? Yeah?” Dean was having a hard time believing that this was all really happening to him. Then again, it did seem to always be him that the angels screwed over time and time again. Cas’ brow crumpled and his eyebrows knitted._

_“Are you doing okay? I mean, time surfing isn’t exactly happy fun-times and your brain must be running in circles.” Dean shrugged and the former-angel-now-druggie sighed. “Got any pressing questions before we go hop into what’s probably a trap?”_

_Dean stared at him, shocked at his blatant reveal of a lack of concern. Cas never risked such danger in his time, at least not on this scale, and certainly not with a flourish of nonchalance and stick-in-asslessness. He hated what he saw and not just in what used to be his friend, everywhere. But he wouldn’t say a word, he knew he was an ass but he wouldn’t do that to this man falling apart at the seams. So a simple truth would have to do._

_“No, not really. I mean… I understand the whole me becoming a big, fat dink because of all the crap going on and all… But even so, you?” That earned him a quirked eyebrow and a smirk. “I get the whole falling bit, but this is how far you’ve come? Just from falling out of grace?”_

_Cas was silent for a moment, the haze seeping from his visage and his shoulders tensing infinitely more than Dean had seen since he wound up in Freaky Future Wonderland. He hit a nerve, a chord that struck the freshly mortal and sang a tune Dean wasn’t familiar with in all his radio surfing years. Heartbreak._

_“Yeah, didn’t think I was going to keep this from you, er, past you at least. Nowadays you could give less than two shits about anyone or anything.” Cas took a breath and Dean still held his quizzical stare. “You are right though, about it being more than just falling from grace. It’s always been more than it seems when it comes to you.”_

_“What are you talking about? Like, since the beginning?” Dean was floundering, not entirely grasping the concept Cas seemed to be hinting at. He had an idea, a wonderful and unrealistic idea, but it was too much to even hope for. Dean may have been a little crazy but he knew where the line between crazy and insane was drawn. Cas looked over the him and Dean saw something lurking behind the lifting fog: pain, tired pain._

_"_ _Dean, I’m sure you’ve never had any idea about what I’ve felt. Or for that matter that I do actually feel, but the Castiel that you’re with all the time does. They say angels can’t feel, but that’s not always the case. Whether it’s a defect or some sort of choice I’m not sure and probably won’t ever really know, but I can tell you that your Castiel does feel. And more often than not that’s the only reason he still remains on your side.”_

_Dean stared at the bags beneath Cas’ eyes, the creases slowly etching their way across his skin, and the frown lines that outnumbered the smile ones. He looked so… human. It was shell-shocking to see life leaving its mark on his friend, even after only five years. Humanity was obviously very hard on Cas. Feelings must have been a whole different experience for him and with how he was talking, it was more than the everyday experience. When the other man didn’t speak for a few moments, Dean’s confusion intensified._

_"Care to elaborate?” Dean pressed. “Why would he-I mean you go through all that and all of this for me?” Now Dean was the one floundering, like a fish out of water. He wanted an answer, just one. Castiel was silent for a moment, looking like he was pretty close to sober._

_"Dean, why do you and Sam do the things you do for each other?”_

_"_ _What? Because we’re family. Is that what you mean? That Cas…” His heart dropped into his stomach and his chest began to throb a little. “Thinks of me as a brother?” He was awarded a shake of the head and an exasperated smile._

_"No, Dean. What is it that family does?” Cas said much like a parent asks a child questions. Dean would have bristled at the condescension except for the fact that his brain was actually having trouble with the question. What did family do? Well, they care for each other, but he had a feeling it was more than that. Family fights, they stick it out, forgive, forget. But they do all of that because… Because they…_

_“Oh my God.” Cas’ smile warmed._

_“Not quite, but I have a feeling he had a little to do with my assignment in the first place. Absent fathers aren’t always thoughtless I guess.” While Cas held a thoughtful expression, Dean’s jaw was still hanging and his face was flushed._

_"You mean you- he- me?” He sputtered unintelligently. Rather reminiscent of most of his reactions around Cas. “You love me?” Then Cas turned back to Dean._

_That stare had been one Dean had received hundreds of times, yet it seemed so foreign. It was different, as if a sudden light had been cast and the shadowy corners had been illuminated. He had the whole picture now and he couldn’t believe he had missed so much for so long. With how often they stared at each other Dean thought someone should have seen it. Sam, Bobby, heck Chuck could have said something. Normally he’d meet it with a nonchalance only ignorance could grant and they could communicate effectively without words. But now, he was burning up. His face was flushed as hot blood spread like wild fire through his veins down his neck and his chest was throbbing with the hard, fast beating of his heart. He felt sick, deathly weak and yet he was energized, sizzling sensations tingled his skin with chills and goosebumps. Jumpy and fidgety, Dean had to move, to do something or he might burst. So he did the first thing that he thought of, running purely on instinct._

_Lunging forward he grabbed Cas, startling the man into swerving the car slightly before slamming on the brakes, and shoved him up against the driver-side door. Fear licked quickly in Cas’ dull blue eyes, a blunt azure from humanity’s toll, but was snuffed by a curiosity that twinkled quickly. Dean stared into those pools long polluted by pain and moved in to breeze a small wisp of breath over those pink lips he’d admired from afar for so long. He moved his hands from bunching Cas’ shirt to touching his thickly stubbled cheeks softly, his fingertips prickled by the dark fuzz. Before his brain could react with a cautionary thought, he latched onto the man’s mouth with a hunger broiling deep within him for too long._

_He thought it would set him free, the kiss, that if he acted and got it out here in the future then he could start to work up the courage to do it to his Cas back in the present. But it felt… wrong. Of course it wasn’t his Cas, but still. It felt empty, even as he kept going, searching for that eventual spark, it was a hollow gesture. Finally, hands pushed gently at his shoulders and he pulled back to look into incredibly familiar blue eyes. Those eyes he knew, those eyes swimming with sorrow and a loss of will he’d seen in Cas too many times. The eyes of someone who’d given up. Like a calm ocean after a horrific hurricane, too tired and hurt from the thrashing to splash the tide on a sandy beach._

_“Dean, stop,” Cas said resolutely with an unwavering look. Sadness had a way if sobering people up sometimes. “This isn’t fair, for anyone.”_

_Dean sat back, not denying that he understood why it stopped, because when there’s nothing behind a kiss for either side it isn’t much fun, but the ‘unfair’ concept was going over his head._

_“What do you mean?” He got a fragile sigh in return and a tired stare._

_“You can’t-“ Cas’ voice cracked and he cleared his throat, his eyes wet. “Don’t do this to me, Dean. You’ve got to start this with your Cas, he’s the one you’re in love with. Not me. And I… I can’t take it. It’s too late for me.” Dean’s face fell and he nodded. Future him was different and definitely not going to carry on after Zachariah zaps him back. Leaving Cas high and dry in hell on earth with tugged heart strings was too cruel, he was right._

_“I know Cas, I’m-“ Cas raised a hand, popping his med bottle open and swallowing down the rest of his pills._

_“You don’t need to say it. There’s no apology needed, just promise you’ll buck up and do it in the past. Because honestly,” He holds up the empty bottle and stares at it sadly. “The future is easily changeable for the better.”_

_Dean nods and they continue on, his mind racing for the rest of the ride._

After returning to his time, Dean had a lot to think about. Not only the choices concerning his brother and the world of course (and maybe a few cussing rants at Zachariah), but what to do with Cas. He couldn’t let him fall apart like that. That extra life destroyed by his poor judgment and lack of proper action was too much. But what made it worse was it was someone so close to him. A friend, true friend, which was a rare luxury for a hunter. Allies were a dime a dozen and friends didn’t last long when mortality wasn’t a strength in the supernatural community. Cas was… Special. First angel he met, first man (sort of) he could see himself having more than a quick tumble in the sheets with. Cas wasn’t just special, he was important and in Dean’s life, important was family. And family was priority.

His musings were cut short as Sam returned with a pinched expression and a big, musty old book. Oh goody, Sam looks happy too.


	2. Chapter 2

The old tome fell with a loud thud and dust billowed into the air around it as Sam dropped it on the table in front of Dean. Sammy bitch face #27 was on display and Dean knew he hadn't found what he was looking for. Dad's journal hadn't helped, since the signs covered half of their bestiary. It could be anything from an off-the-rails demon to an overly vicious werewolf on the prowl. Maybe even witches... God, he hated witches. Sam rambled for a moment about some South African religion that apparently had nothing to do with the job (honestly sometimes Sam scared him with how much he enjoyed research). Finally, when the history lesson ended, Dean asked him what they should do.

"I don't know, I called Bobby but he just told me what we all ready suspected. I'm not sure what else to do other than catch it." Dean gave a thoughtful look, if only to rile him up.

"Dean, no. We're not going in half-cocked with no idea what this is. We need help."

This is when Dean figured out Sammy's 'gotta call Cas' look. Meaningful stare, raised eyebrow, and an air of subtle pleading. Sam knew Cas wouldn't come if Sam asked. At least, not at first. He'd find it funny smugly, but it held a new significance to him now. A profound bond... Not just weird angel-speak for being pulled out of hell. Also code for (not so) secretly in love with each other. He wondered absently if Cas knew yet if what he was feeling was love.

It actually worried him; Cas was probably freaked out by normal emotions. Everything piled on his, admittedly holy, shoulders and that's just heaven being filled with dicks. Human emotions must be so jarring for the naive angel. Dean wasn't even going to kid himself and deny he cared about what he's put Cas through. It left a bitter taste on his tongue and a weight on his chest. He looked away from Sam, feeling slightly guilty and anxious. He knew if he saw Cas it'd come all pouring out. Like his heart puking out its guts. But looking at Sam's puppy-dog and taking into account his tendency to put things like this off, he knew he didn't have much of a choice. He rolled his eyes to make a point, before clasping his hands together and shutting his eyes.

"Oh Castiel, who art probably running from heaven, we need you to haul ass down here. Got something weird and could use some help." he said loudly, shooting Sam a small glare then closed his eyes again.

_'And we've gotta talk. Just you and me. It's important.'_ he added in his head. Saying it out loud would definitely draw Sam's attention and that was a conversation he was far less interested in dealing with. After nearly a year of wrestling with his feelings for Cas (not even mentioning the sexuality issue), now was not the time to wuss out. They'd been ganking monsters left and right since his little blast back to the past, not to mention the Ruby debacle. Thinking about his feelings was definitely not a priority.

With the Apocalypse looming on the horizon, he knew it could be now or never. God only knew when one of them would kick it in some crazy way again and this was something he couldn't leave unsaid. He couldn't take Sam or Cas dying again. Even the thought left a bitter taste and an aching squeeze in his chest. Better get out the truth before life needs him to lie again.

Sam smiled a little too smugly when Cas popped up not even a minute after. Dean doubted he'd have come so fast if he hadn't mentioned they needed to talk. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips but he held it back. Even if he was confident in future Cas' assurances, there was still a good chance his Cas wouldn't understand or reciprocate. Because that's just how nice and fair life was for him.

Actually, if he thought about it that way, Cas just might smite him bond or no bond.

Cas was as he always was, shining blue eyes like how he imagined the waters in the Caribbean to be, strong stubbled chin, and permanent sex hair. Dean tried to fix it once, for his own sanity, but Cas had quickly poofed to the other side of the room with a confused look on his face. Sam had laughed but Dean had been a little too affected by the betrayed look in his eyes. After all the times he'd seen him look at fellow angels with those eyes, Dean never wanted to be on the receiving end. Ever.

He looked normal enough, but Dean wondered faintly if he would just announce he was confused about what he wanted to talk about. That'd make keeping Sammy of his back a pain, but that was Cas. And really, he wouldn't change it if he had a chance. He blinked quickly, bringing himself out of his little reverie. _When did I start thinking like a teenage girl?_

"What do you require my assistance for?" Cas asks, eyes burrowing into Deans like always. Dean can feel himself falling into those sapphire pools and getting wrapped up in a warm sensation. An encompassing feeling like sinking into a hot spring or a freshly dried blanket and he can hardly breath. It seeps deep into his bones and he feels light as air, like a thermal beneath a bird's wings pushing it closer to the shining sun. Sam went on to ramble on about the case, stopping only to breath or get a response from Cas, but Dean studiously ignored them in favor of pulling his mind back together.

_Pull it together Winchester, you gotta focus on the case. Leave the emotional pansying for another time. People dying, family business, focus. Focus like it was the world's best pie, or the best cheeseburger, or pranking Sammy, or Cas' butt... Wait- No don't focus on that! It is nice tho- AGGH! Abort! Abort! Focus off course! *screaming and fake crashing sound effects* Mayday Captain! The booty's too fine! Abandon ship! Gotta jump the S. S. Hetero! Aaaaah! Sploosh!_

So much for pulling it back together...

"Dean?" Cas' deep voice rumbled, shaking Dean out of his quickly derailing thoughts. He looked back to the angel and rose his eyebrows.

"What?" Cas stared at him intently while Sam groaned behind a face palm. "Dean, Cas knows what it is. Apparently a pagan wargod thought the Apocalypse was a great time to break out the old traditions and is on a spree. Taking his own sacrifices, slaughtering them and feeding on the hate and despair of their loved ones after the fact is making him stronger." Sam whined, sporting bitchface #39 and giving Dean the distinct impression patience was being worn thin. He nodded with an eye roll.

"Well, do we know how to kill it?" Sam was silent for a moment before launching into another discussion with Cas.

Dean just listened to the deep gravel of Cas' voice. It fit him well, a powerful voice that turned Dean's insides into tingling tapioca. It was another blatant clue that this was different. Every attraction Dean had was a fire, quick flash-bang. Fwoosh, up in flames of lust but out just as quickly. While with Cas it was a slow molten swirl, filling with butterflies and electric shocks. The heat would spike like any other, especially when Cas conveniently forgot about personal space, but Dean thought he hid it well. Apparently, a little too well. He looked to the other side of the room and away from Cas to keep himself as grounded as he could. With his thoughts running as fast as wild horses he was afraid of what might happen if he fell into those clear blue seas of eyes.

Sam pulled him out of his musings again and they all set off to track the pagan pain in the ass. The city was easy to maneuver so, unfortunately, neither Baby nor Cas’ mojo was necessary. They snuck around, as they do, and asked the citizens about any strange behavior exhibited by their neighbors or weird feelings they’d had. Dean was used to the looks they get on the job, varying from scared to doubtful to flirtatious. Being on the receiving was as easy as dishing it out to him now, but seeing Cas deal with it (since he decided to tag along) was a whole new experience. A decidedly displeasing one. He had to intervene several times when an interview was quickly becoming a "fling a flirt at Cas and see what happens" game. Luckily, it didn't seem like the angel was in the know.

Or maybe he was...

An older woman shimmied closer to Cas and a hot flame lit within Dean's gut. Cas' eyes flickered over to Dean and he seemed confused more at Dean's reaction than the woman's advances. Dean's tightened fists are digging into his hips as he smooths his face and walks over. They better find this damn thing soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short but that's how it worked out, I write this out as a big story and chop it up. It flowed a bit better ending now. Tired of the rambling mess yet?


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually, they stumbled upon the war god’s trail and followed it to a rundown homeless shelter. Dean's germaphobia was going crazy, but the saddened tenants strewn around the large open room stilled his comments. These people didn't have a whole lot of options and he wouldn't make them feel any worse over it.

Sam looked at them sadly with a sympathetic stare, his inner boy scout emerging when an old woman needed help getting up. Cas was remarkably empathetic when a young man asked him for some change, obviously misreading Cas' clothes as a sign of wealth. The angel just smiled gently and fished out a wrinkled five dollar bill from his coat pocket. It must have been Jimmy's from before. Cas quietly apologized for not having more, but the man just gave him a bright grin and an enthusiastic thank you. Dean wasn't spoken to, barely even glanced at, and yet he felt a kinship with these people.

After all, he hadn't had a home since he was six. He wished he did, to have somewhere to belong, but his lifestyle made that pretty impossible. Home is where the heart is... He looked over at Cas, who was chatting with a young girl who looked to be about thirteen, and a warm smile slipped onto his face.

Home didn’t have to be a house made of wood and stone. It didn’t even have to be a car that took you everywhere you went. Maybe it could be any place you go as long as that one person was there with you. Dean’s used to be where ever he went with his dad or Sammy. But looking back, Sammy was never happy motel hopping and his dad was never happy period. It takes more than just your person to make a home. They have to be happy too. And now, Sam still wanted that normal life, no matter how many times he’d say it was too late or he was in too deep. Dean wanted that for his brother, a home where he could get married and have a slew of rugrats for Dean to spoil. He wanted him finally happy. But for Dean, maybe he’d finally found his home.

Cas looks over from the girl, who was searching in her various pockets for something to show him, and their eyes lock. The cobalt eyes search, flit minutely as if to look for an answer or at least a hint between Dean’s eyes. Then a thought sends a frozen sucker punch to his gut, shriveling his warm thoughts like a morning cold wilts spring buds. What if Cas rejects him? His future self can only promise so many things, but what Dean knows to be true is that Cas is anything but predictable.

He breaks eye contact and turns to the woman who runs the shelter, carrying a conversation he’s had so many times his mind can wander without stirring any suspicion. Wander may be the wrong word; perhaps flail or thrash about may be more accurate. It’s far too easy to convince yourself that you’ve fallen in love with someone, people did it every day, but it’s a whole other problem to believe that they could love you. And in Dean’s case, tip or no tip, it was damn near impossible.

He's pulled out of it when she mentions unusual disappearances during the night, but chucks it up to the general lifestyle of the "patrons." Dean's lips twitch, fighting a disgusted scowl and throws out a generic thank you and goodbye before walking off to where Sam and Cas had convened. He shared the information he learned and his opinion of the manager with the pair, earning a bitchface from Sam (come on, his language wasn't that colorful) and the head tilt from Cas.

Dean had an inkling the manager might be involved but Sam and Cas weren't so sure. They decided to stake out the shelter that night since the god seemed to attack every night under a clear moon. The wait was unbearable for Dean. Sam elected to sit in the back since Cas mentioned (not-so-subtly) that he'd never ridden shotgun. Dean was tempted to call out his bullshit, since he'd ridden with Dean before, but kept it to himself.

Having the angel so close was nerve wracking to say the least, but certainly not his first concern. Gank the monster, then fluffy feelings.

They stayed long into the night, until the only lights were the flickering bulb above the shelter door and the white blanket from the bright moon. The hours dragged on long and slow like the Croats in the future. Silence filled the air and Dean's hair stood on end over every inch of his goosebumped flesh. He knew something was going to happen, and as usual it wasn't going to be good. Then, as if on cue, a high-pitched scream pierced the silence. The trio reacted instantly, bursting from the car and running toward the building. Sam ran around to the back and Dean went in the front with Castiel. When they opened the doors they found something that shocked all of them.

Standing in the middle of the room, clutching the manager's throat with black and gold eyes, was the young girl Castiel was talking to before. Dean and Cas both hesitated for a moment before Sam burst in, shooting them dirty looks before tearing the woman away from the teen. It didn't move, just watched them, arched back and hunched shoulders mimicking a jungle cat readying an attack. Behind the lurking child they could see a handful of people cowering in a corner, huddled together. Cas glared at the girl and his voice rumbled loudly in the tense silence.

“It’s not her.” Dean could hear Sam’s incredulous exhale and he couldn’t bring himself to disagree.

“What do you mean it’s not her? I’m pretty sure the black and gold eyes scream god.” Sam snarks unhelpfully, making the girl tilt her head and sneer at them smugly.

“Oh, how clever. The fluffy winged asshole figured it out.” It rasped, voice deep and sounding much like a 30 year chain smoker had gargled gravel. “The face I wear is not my own of course, it was, once, the young girl’s.”

“You bastard!” Dean took out his gun and aimed it levelly at the creature’s head. He knew how to read in between the lines, the girl was dead. The thing cackled and viscous green goop dribbled from its mouth between razor sharp fangs.

“Do you honestly think a simple bullet could end me? I am over a millennia old, son of man, what makes you think a piece of metal could kill me?” It cackled again, arching its back. Dean smirked and looked over to Cas who nodded minutely. He knew one piece of metal that could kill the bastard. Trick was getting close enough to it.

“You think you’re good enough for my bullets?”

Trash talk could work.

The thing whipped its head around to glare at Dean, eyes lighting up with golden flames. Prideful little thing wasn’t it? It lashed out quickly, swiping a handful of claws at Dean’s chest. He recoiled just enough to avoid getting hit, though his shirt didn’t make it out unscathed. He let out a scornful laugh, trying to control the shake in it. That was close.

It shuffled back and grinned feraly, picking a bit from its claws with its teeth. Dean narrowed his eyes as it turned to face him fully. Unfortunately, Sam thought that would be a good time to unsheath his knife. Dean sent him a glare and moved first. As he drew his own knife, he slashed and parried with the monster until it was on the opposite side of the room.

"Sam, take them and go." Incredulous bitchface #43, haven't seen that one in a while. "Sammy just go, me and Cas can handle this. Their lives take precidence." Oh yeah, big word, can't argue now Sammy.

After a second of looking between his brother and the angel, Sam finally nodded albeit with defiant bitchface #4. The war god heard, obviously, but was quickly engaged by Castiel who had snuck over to flank Dean. After a short skirmish, the god punched Cas across the room. Dean ran over to him, after barricading the door behind Sam (that'd earn some bitching but hey, protecting Sammy is #1), with a tightness in his chest. Looking over him, he knew Cas was fine but a plan quickly formed. With a quick wink, he moved over to shield Cas from the pagan's line of sight. Cas nodded and slipped a hand to Dean's rib cage. Woah, that wasn't what he planned.

A flush blazed his face and he became hyper aware of the surprisingly warm hand. He lost his breath for a moment before Castiel slipped his angel blade from his sleeve and lunged toward him. His dumb brain thought it was to embrace him, which was pretty much what he was doing. The blood curdling screech behind him pulled Dean out of his head and back to the pagan god with black blood dripping from its mouth. Cas' blade was buried to the hilt but the war god just coughed lightly and smirked. Cas became rigid against Dean and reached up to shove Dean's face into his neck. The flush returned ten fold as Cas' scent filled his nose.

"Shut your eyes Dean." Was the only warning he got before he heard the hum from Cas' power and the shrill death scream explode and then quickly fade away. It took him a minute to recollect himself, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush, but Dean eventually realized Cas was still holding him. He contemplated staying there until Cas sheathed his blade and let go of him.

"It is vanquished, Dean." Cas rumbled, standing up and brushing off his coat. Dean shakily followed suit after his blood stopped surging and then the weight of the situation hit him. They were done. The monster had been ganked. They were free...

To talk.

And Sam was locked out. No interruptions this time.

Cas turned to him with a subtle expectant expression, big blue doe eyes and frown lines smoothed. This is his moment, the time he'd been waiting for.

_Fuck._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uggh, this chapter took me forever. Personal life gets in the way too much, bleh. Anyhoo enjoy some more angst! So much... angstyness.

The silence hung thickly over them as Dean's mind was completely blank. This was totally unfair; for the last few days he could barely sleep with how rampant his thoughts had been but when it was finally time to get it all out, nothing.

Cas continued to stare at him intently, the deep gaze making Dean's hands sweat and his stomach do back flips. Sure he can fight a rabid pagan god no problem, barely broke a sweat, but put him in an honest to god emotional situation and he falls apart. His constant ravings in his head for instance. Dean looks at Cas with a shaky smile; thank god he couldn't hear his thoughts.

Cas' eyes flickered down and Dean is reminded of their meeting by the guilty puppy face. Confused momentarily before a block of ice dropped in his stomach and a fire lit his face and neck- Oh god he could.

Dean froze and suddenly his mind was in overdrive again. How long had he been listening? What had he heard? What did he think? What- what- what? Dean stopped.

Why hadn't he said anything?

He looked back over to the angel with an icy chill prickling his skin. Cas was turned away, looking over the body as it lay there. A bit of sympathy washed over Dean as Cas laid a hand over the once young girl's eyes and muttered a prayer. Maybe this was more important. Perhaps their talk could wait a few more hours.

***

It was quiet. The crackling of the fire filled the air between the trio and echoed into the cold night. Sam had asked Cas if he'd wanted to say a few words but he'd declined. Dean remained silent as well, not being one to wield his words well enough for such a setting.

Sam elected to say something for her, “a word or two” for a girl that none of them knew. He waxed on about how she had survived on her own and met a hunter’s end. The words were hollow though, because they knew there had to be someone out there who would miss her, but never know the truth. The truth…

It struck Dean sharply, how ironic that was. Someone dying and an important truth never brought to light. His mind flashed back to a similarly despondent man whom shared an expression close to that which darkened the angel’s face then. A voice whispered and nagged in the back of Dean’s head, filling him with conflicting emotions.

_Are you chickening out? Using the dead kid’s funeral as an excuse?_

_Tell him, tell him now! You’ve been waiting for this. Screw Sammy, do it now! While he’s emotional!_

_Wait until he’s calmed down, look how tense he is. Now is not the time, especially in front of Sam. Cas can always escape, you can’t._

His decision to tell Castiel was unwavering, but his heart felt brittle, almost as if he’d accepted his fate. This is why he didn’t do this type of thing, love. He was a coward.

_“What is it that family does?”_

The tired voice soothed his nerves as the memory washed over his vision. An idea struck him. Family may love, but they also comfort. Maybe… It was a long shot and a bit of a low blow, but perhaps that could give him just enough of an opening.

Dean looked over, prepared to say whatever he could to get the angel alone, only to find an empty space and Sam still moping. He did a double take before asking his brother where Cas was, reigning in his frustration. Sam turned and gave him a funny look.

"He left a couple of minutes ago, said he had something to take care of." Sam shrugged and started to head back to the car, leaving Dean alone. The silence filled in the space he left and Dean felt the sky drop all of his insecurities back on top of him. His shoulders slumped, back hunched, and his knees bowed under the strain.

_Shit._

***

It had taken 48 hours. Two whole days for Dean to finally snap under his own self-assigned pressure and get his head out of his ass for a minute to make a good choice.

Sam and Dean had decided to forgo another job for a while; they needed a break after how hard the last job hit them. Dean's anxiety hadn't lessened since Cas left and he wondered if Sam had caught on. Judging by the way his little brother had herded him to the bar, Dean thought not. Luckily, the bar had whiskey and bourbon to drown his sorrows in.

After the third blonde (who he suspected would charge) was finally shooed away, Dean snuck away while Sam was arguing some smart stuff with a group of college kids. The buzz that hummed quietly in his veins softened the nervous lurching in his stomach but the sadness never wavered. He wandered around, eventually finding his way back to the dingy motel he and Sam were staying at.

The room was empty, as expected, but when Dean opened the door his heart dropped even further in his chest nonetheless. He wanted to sink into his bed and never come out, just wallow in the dark hole his self hate/pity had created. Dean wasn't typically an emotional drunk but that day was different.

A fire burned in his chest and the lead weight in his stomach became a molten ball of frustration. His blood boiled and his hands lashed out at the closest object to him. A porcelain greyhound figurine flew quickly through the air and shattered loudly against the wall. The crash echoed lightly for a few seconds in the otherwise silent room. Dean’s shoulders shivered and his knuckles bled white from his tight fists. A deep breath in and scrunched eyes try to clear a chaotic mind. The raging seas settled and the booming thunderclouds quieted to wisps on the wind. Calm.

A tiny deep voice whispered in the emptiness.

_Call him. Pray._

Maybe it could work; he was sufficiently drunk to vomit enough important emotional crap to the angel before his senses kicked back in. Good plan. Like the rest in his life, jump in guns blazing and deal with the consequences when he was sober.

The hunter swayed slightly as he walked across the room to the bed, the shards of porcelain crackling beneath his heavy footfalls. Dropping onto the edge, Dean squared his shoulders and grasped his knees. Sobriety was inching in and his stomach had a hollow ache forming deep within it, time was moving far too fast. He stared blankly at the floor and drew up the false confidence drinking had granted him to obey that tiny voice.

_Cas... Where ever you're hiding... Time for that talk._

Like always, one blink and he was there. The sound of rufflling wings tipped Dean off to open his eyes and drink in the trench coated angel. His heart lurched almost painfully. It had become a normal occurance whenever they met, ever since he went on his little time adventure it happened. He wondered idly it it would stop one day. Maybe shift from a lurch to a jump, something less foreboding.

Castiel seemed better, less melancholy and drained since the funeral when he disappeared. Dean wanted to know why but he'd save that for later.

"Hello Dean, what did you want to talk about?" Cas' gravel voice washed roughly over Dean and he shivered. Well, that was nice.

_Stop, focus. Vomit words not food._

"Cas, I gotta tell you something really important, but you gotta promise to stay quiet and not runaway."

Deer in headlights never looked so cute.

_Whelp, that was smooth._

"Dean I-"

"No Cas, I need to get this out." Dean took a shaky breath and steels himself. "Cas I know we've been through a crazy amount of shit since we met. You've done so much for Sammy and I, the world really. And I know we haven’t exactly thanked you very well, what with us calling you only when we need you…” Dean took a stronger breath. “But I think about you all the time. At first it was wonder what you and the angels were planning. Then I thought about how you could help during jobs and how you need to watch all those movies and shows to get our references. But when I thought of that I remembered how you tilt your head when you don’t when you don’t get something. And how your eyes get all confused and the blue clouds from ice blue to a sky color. Sometimes on cloudy days when the sky goes gray I wonder if your eyes needed to recharge. I get lost in them all the time and even Sam’s said something about it.

“You’re awkward and honest but vulnerable and strong at the same time. You make me laugh harder than Sam has in years without even trying and if you died again I’m sure I’d cry harder too. You have no sense of style but you still look adorable and it suits you. You make me want to try harder so I don’t let you down and get a spot upstairs so I could see you after I finally kick it for good.”

Cas makes a sour face but Dean moves on quickly. His nervousness was quickly beginning to squeeze his throat shut. Better hurry it up.

“I want to go on hunts with you. I want to sit you down and watch all those movies and shows you’re missing out on. I want to explain all the stuff you won’t get. I want to listen to music with you in Baby, have you ride shotgun…” The tightening worsened and he took another deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I want to hold you when you’re sad and listen to you when you’re confused and don’t know what to do. I want to help you figure out your feelings. I wanna hold your hand when I’m relaxing. I wanna kiss you when no one’s looking. I want to gross Sam out by laying one on you in front of him. I want you to hold me when I sleep and watch over me.” He looks up and stares into swirling blue eyes. Confusion was replaced with shock and a tiny twinkle of hope, which gave him a warm tingle.

“And I want you to want to do the same for me.”

He was done, could barely breathe, but he got it out. Cas didn’t move or speak. A blank look on his face told Dean he was processing it, but the quiet was crushing him.

The silence. Held breath.

Cas finally opened his mouth.

“Dean, I…” he trailed off with a troubled look.

The world came crashing down, shattered around him and in the deafening silence he could hear his heart crack. Fuck, that hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh heh... heh... I am a horrible person... Why am I incapable of writing happy things?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy mother of all that is shippy this chapter is waaaaaay too late. I meant to post this forever ago but, like always, life sucks and my attention span can rival a goldfish's. But anyhoo, last chapter and all. LET THE FEELS COMMENCE!!

Dean was no stranger to heartache, no matter what he’d tell people. He got attached against his better judgment and often he paid the price with an emotional scar or two. Fortunately, he’d gotten out before anything had ever gone too far or gotten too serious. But time was never kind and his luck always had a tendency of running out on him.

Sparks dotted the edges of his vision, blurred slightly by the forming tears in his eyes. He held them back as long as he could, but somewhere in his mind he faded away. This was worse than before, in all his days of heart break and breaking hearts he was always able to escape. Running away was an ever present option and sometimes even a necessity.

Now, he was on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to run. He felt like a caged animal, afraid with all his instincts screaming but frozen on the spot. His eyes were blind and his fingertips numb; staring into blue eyes he suddenly couldn't read and he was lost. They were so expressive and yet he had lost his Rosetta Stone, unable to comprehend. Or perhaps unwilling. It was a scary notion, rejection from the angel. After how close they had gotten and how much they had been through... It shattered his resolve he had tempered with will and whiskey. Dean felt fat tears well up, spill over his cheeks and stream down hotly. He brought a hand to his face to touch the trails with his fingertips. When he brought them back to stare at the shining pads, the words slipped out.

"Oh, sorry."

It was odd, he almost never really cried. He usually held it back and suppressed it. Now he was apologizing for it, another rare event. It hadn’t happened since he was young, travelling the country with Sam and their father… An involuntary chill shivered up his spine and he took a shaky breath. A cerulean flame was lit and Castiel’s face hardened with a passionate fury. He stepped up to Dean, barely a foot between them, and stared into the hunter’s eyes. It felt heavy and new, yet filled Dean with a tinge of shame. Someone angry with him over apologizing about crying… Sounds like something Cas would do.

“Dean you have no reason to apologize for crying. Why would you think…” Castiel trail off and Dean swallowed thickly. No matter how he’d spin it, the angel wouldn’t buy or like it. He looked down to his boots and watched as his tears dropped to mark them with soft little plops. This sucked.

He was jolted out of his misery by two hands reaching to cup his cheeks. Dean froze under the warm palms as callused thumbs wiped his tears away. They gently moved his head back up and his eyes sought out the angel’s, finding a gentleness he’d not seen for a long time. There was another moment of silence before Cas spoke again. “I do not want you to have to apologize for anything like this ever again. I want to be a shoulder for you to cry on instead of someone you must hide your tears from. I am not very…” His face scrunched up for a moment

“Good with human emotions but when you said all of those nice things I felt- something. I can’t really explain it. I didn’t grow up learning how to put words to my feelings since for so long I had none. Dean this is all new to me, and it scares me. I am deeply sorry for hurting you, but I had no words to give you. It hurts almost, but not in a bad way and it confuses me. None of it makes sense Dean, and it makes me realize I wasn’t built for these feelings.” Castiel’s hands loosen on Dean’s face and the hunter reaches up to slide his hand to squeeze one comfortingly.

“I know Cas, I get it.” The angel gives him a watery smile. \

“It seems ever since I raised you from Hell, I’ve changed, but for the better or worse I don’t know. There’s so much now I’m unsure of and it’s never been this way before. I had orders and I followed them. Now it’s almost like…” His eyes widen and Dean smiles softly.

“Like you have a will of your own? Well, welcome to free will buddy. It’s not gonna get any easier, but Cas,” Dean hesitantly raises his own hand to cup the angel’s stubbled cheek. “I promise to be there with you every step of the way.”

There was another beat of silence that floated instead of looming as it had before. The nervous air became charged with something new and tingled across Dean's skin. He looked at Castiel and found the sad anxiety had bled away to his normal unreadable expression. But this was different, a powerful passion almost glowed hin the angel's eyes. They did not blink when he spoke.

"Dean."

"Yeah, Cas?"

Another beat. Blood rushed through Dean's ears as Castiel's eyes bore into him.

"I think... I want to kiss you."

Dean's too human heart skipped a beat and he swallowed thickly. His throat burned roughly as he took a shakey breath.

"Then do it." he squeaked out.

There was a moment of hesitation when Cas looked Dean apprehensively as if he expected the offer to be quickly taken away. Dean held his ground though, he had the courage not to run but this was the angel's step to take and he'd done his share. But that second stretched out into an eternity in Dean's mind, allowing all his niggling insecurities to resurface for just a moment.

His thoughts were expelled by a pair of soft lips pressed to his. They were warm and brushed lightly enough to portray Castiel's inexperience. It was clumsy, fast, and tight-lipped but Dean wouldn't have it any other way. Leaps and bounds better than the dry, hollow, and useless kiss he scrambled at in the future. Most of his kisses shared with female distractions were sloppy, wet, and empty. This was different.

Hands moved up to cup his face as they parted.

This was enough.

Ice blue eyes warmed his heart and they shared a shy smile.

This was love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... Well at least it's done... On to the next fic in my queue! Reviews make the world go round!~ Thanks for sticking with me! <3


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